Dark Side of the Cloth by Brooklyn Cross
Yasmine shifted back and forth uncomfortably, her new flats digging into her feet. The strange energy that had started the moment the doors to the church were closed only built as the funeral service began.
All the usual sadness and despair with such a tragic loss was present, but there was something else, something dark and electrical—like God himself was angered and ready to tear the church down. It seemed like the entire town turned up for the funeral of the little girls, each one crying or scowling, adding to the grief or anger floating in the air. It was making for a potent combination, a combination that would have created a riot on any other occasion.
The girls’ families had opted to have the entire service at the church, and she was secretly relieved. It had been more effort to make the arrangements for the church, but she had to admit the place looked like a magical flower garden, the perfect send-off for these beautiful little souls.
The harsh dark woods had been transformed with the arrangements of pink and white flowers, and the entire platform where the choir and Dean stood was filled with poster-sized images of the smiling young girls.
She’d purposely brought in a tiered display that housed enough flowers so that for the briefest of moments, one might forget the reason why they were all gathered. Yasmine deliberately stood in the shadows at the back of the packed church and quietly dabbed at her eyes with a crumpled tissue.
She didn’t think a human was capable of this many tears, but so much emotion over her own losses had reemerged from wherever she’d buried it. The weight of that emotion was so heavy that it threatened to choke her. Raquel’s smiling face and beautiful laugh haunted her. It was as though she were reaching out from the grave begging for help, or maybe it was to punish her for running.
Yasmine replayed that night over and over in her mind. The question, could she have done more, always left her shaken. It wasn’t fair that she got to live, and Raquel’s life was so cruelly stolen. Looking toward the front of the church, she stared at the pictures.
None of this was fair.
Yasmine bit her lip to keep from openly bawling and making a scene.
Before the doors closed, the pitying stares started as soon as people began to arrive. Those that remembered her sister gave her a hug as they entered the church. Their well-intended condolences were choking her, smothering her in the painful memories she was trying to avoid. Those closest people to her were staring at her, but the moment she looked them in the eyes, they cast their gazes away. Her entire life had been like this after her sister and mother had died.
Tears ran freely down her cheeks as she took deep breaths, trying hard to stave off the slowly building panic. The vast church suddenly felt too tiny, the organ too loud in her ears, and the normally beautiful choir sounded harsh, enhancing the trapped sensation. Yasmine closed her eyes and focused on her breathing until her heart settled and the light-headedness that always accompanied her attacks eased.
Dean stepped toward the pulpit as the choir finished and her panic eased staring into his calm face. He simply stood, staring out over those in the pews, the weight of his silence loud in her ears.
“Hebrews 4-13: ‘Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is naked and exposed before the eyes of Him. To whom we must give account.’ He who did this crime must and will give account.” Dean took a deep breath, and everyone in the church did the same as if he’d commanded them to do so. “Death is not the end. Death is only the beginning of eternal peace. These sweet souls, although stolen too soon, will forever be in the light of God our heavenly Father!”
Dean’s voice boomed, and the deep rumbling sound washed over her like a soothing warm bath, captivating her and everyone else. He effortlessly commanded the room, and she couldn’t pry her eyes off him if she wanted to as he paced and spoke about love, peace, and God’s eternal embrace.
Dean turned to face the room dramatically, the white robes with the glittering gold cross flared around him. He was an enigma, a glowing symbol of hope amongst the dark. He held out his hands to the room, and no one so much as twitched as they waited on his every word.
“You see these hands? When I was in the Army, these hands touched much death. They have held the hands of the young and old alike as they were ushered from this world into the next. I battled with my faith as I watched senseless killings, but I battled harder when I thought about the cause. Yes, I will admit that many casualties in the name of war perished by these hands.”
Dean paused and looked around the room, his eyes locking with hers for a moment, but it was enough for her body to flush with the memory of their last time together and how he made her feel. It was an inappropriate moment to have such feelings, and yet it also meant she was alive. It was a glaring comparison to why they were all gathered. Dean broke his gaze with hers and continued.
“What happened to these young girls is a different kind of war, but it is a war nonetheless. We all stand shoulder to shoulder and raise our fists in the air as we shout, it is not fair! And you would be right, I cannot tell you that there is a way to make sense of this heinous act, but I can tell you this.” Dean’s head rose, and the sun shining in from the high stained glass windows covered him in a kaleidoscope of color. The image stole the air from Yasmine’s lungs, her chest tight with feelings that she shouldn’t have for a man that couldn’t be hers.
“No matter the age of the person that faced their untimely death, they all had one thing in common. God was by their side as they slipped from this world of suffering and into the next. And as their bodies became empty vessels, their souls were set free of all earthly pain. They are now free to watch over us all, free to become what they were intended, free to spread their wings and soar to heights that we cannot begin to imagine.”
He walked down the couple steps from the platform and held out his hand to one of the mothers in the front row.
“Do not cry tears of sadness. Although your soul hurts, take heart in the knowledge that your daughter is an angel, and I know she is still here with you. One summer day, when you feel the warmth on your face, smile for that is her kissing your cheek. On the cold winter nights when you drift off easily warmed by the fire in the hearth—sleep soundly, for she sits by your side. You may no longer be able to see her physical body, but her wings blanket you.”
Dean stepped back from the mother, who was nodding as she tried to contain her pained sobs. He held out his hand to the next woman.
“Take a deep breath and feel secure in the knowledge that your girl stands by your side, holds your hand, and watches out for you now for one day you will see her again. You will both be joined by the love and the power of the almighty God himself.”
The room was silent other than the sound of sniffling and quiet sobs from the front of the room.
Dean took a few moments with each family member, and each one cried and then smiled as he spoke to them. All but one of the families had been located. The girl that had been taken the same year Yasmine was born didn’t have anyone there to represent her.
They’d moved a few years after their daughter’s disappearance. The pain of living in the town after her disappearance was too much for them, and that was the last anyone had heard. Some of the folks speculated they’d moved to someplace tropical like Costa Rica, but no one knew for certain.
Mabel, the kind soul that she was, volunteered to stand in as the girl’s family. Mabel remembered the family fondly and didn’t want to see the girl go without representation.
It didn’t surprise Yasmine that Mabel would do this. Many years ago, she stepped in for another mother when a little girl needed it. Yasmine remembered crying on the woman’s shoulder more times than she could count. Honestly, she didn’t know what she would have done without Mabel.
Maybe the family would be located one day, but until then, the little girl was well represented.
Recognizing that Dean was getting ready to wrap up the service, she slipped out the door to ready the procession of cars. Yasmine’s simple black dress and long coat billowed in the sharp wind that seemed to be protesting the senseless deaths.
It was wrong for her to want the man that did this to die, and it was certainly wrong to have those thoughts while standing on church property, but it was how she felt. She wanted the monster that hurt those sweet little girls to feel the pain and fear they had felt.
Yasmine took a deep breath, trying to steady the rampant emotions. At this point, she was unsure she’d ever feel alright again, but for now, she had a job to do.
She made her way to the waiting hearses with slow but precise movements and opened the doors for their special cargo. The shiny black cars would be the last journey for the girls until they reached their final resting places.